The stranger
by Macky19
Summary: When a man from out of town claims to be related to Dallas, his world is turned upside down. But when dark secrets from his past are uncovered Dally learns that everything may not be as it seems
1. Chapter 1

**So... I've started a new story**

 **I've had quite a bit of writer's block lately, so I apologize for not being around much.**

 **Anyways please, please PLEASE review. You have no idea how much it helps.**

 **I don't own anything & as always please enjoy**

It was a warm Friday night, and the dingo was in packed. It was one of the only hangouts where there were no Socs, so it was usually pretty busy, but not like this. It was so packed that a certain group of Greasers couldn't find a table inside to sit at.

"Man, I can't believe that broad made us stand outside!" Two-Bit complained loudly, causing others to turn their heads to look at him.

"Well maybe because it's hot as hell in there if there was one more person crammed into that room everyone would die from heat stroke." Steve snapped after he had shushed the older greaser.

"Let's go somewhere else, guys," Ponyboy said eagerly making Steve roll his eyes.

"Where else are we gonna go, idiot?" He older greaser asked, prodding him roughly in the shoulder, as a sour glare set on Ponyboy's face.

"Cool it, Randle," Dally commanded, lighting himself a cigarette. He had an awful headache, and the last thing he needed was them bitching at each other all night long. He had also gotten into a with Tim Shepard, who had sliced a deep gash with a shard a glass into his face and had been bugging him all day.

It was loud. Too loud. Dallas couldn't hear his own thoughts. But he couldn't keep hanging around without any sound, it would drive him crazy.

He was suddenly aware of something being wrapped around his arm. He looked down, frowning to find that Johnny had clung to him, and he bitterly frowned, shaking him off. Of course, he cared about the kid, but he had a reputation to protect, dammit!

"What?" He demanded loudly, breathing in deeply with his cigarette in his mouth. The familiar taste of the smoke calmed him down a bit.

Johnny didn't speak, which of course was not unusual for the short greaser. Instead, he silently pointed, his black eyes big and wide. Dally rose a brow, following the direction of his finger, and turning around in a half circle to see what he was pointing at.

What he found wasn't really shocking. It was just a middle-aged man, average height a little muscular. Plain brown eyes and brown hair that was streaked with gray, probably due to growing older. Nothing about the man's looks really told him that anything was out of the ordinary.

But…he hadn't seen him before. Even with the dingo packed like this Dally had seen everyone at least once. Heck, he might even go as far to say that he knew them all by name. But this man, he had never seen him before.

The man noticed his staring and took a step forward, causing Dally to force his eyes away, and turned back around. Johnny, who was still standing across from Dallas, meaning that he could still see the man, went pale.

"He's coming over here." He whispered, his wide. Dally wondered if he was afraid, or just being cautious.

"Evening." A deep voice said from behind him. Dallas didn't answer, he just blew a puff of smoke over his shoulder to let the man know he wasn't welcome.

The stranger coughed once but didn't leave. He was almost unfazed. Dally rose a brow, quickly changing his approach.

"Why were you staring at us, huh?" He demanded sharply, cracking his knuckles. To his surprise, the man laughed, and the greaser rolled his eyes. What was up with this guy?

"I wasn't looking at all of you." The stranger stated, placing a hand on Dallas' shoulder, the greaser immediately shook it off. "I was simply looking at you."

There was something off with this guy, Dally was sure of it now.

"Why? I don't know you." He commented bluntly, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Not now. But you may have known me in your past." He started, almost in a sing-song voice. "But you will know me in your future." His voice went from cheerful to cold within seconds.

And with that the man walked away, not leaving any room for questions.

"Crazy old bastard." Dally murmured, putting out his cigarette with the heel of his boot. The rest of the greasers sent each other uneasy looks.

"What?" Dally demanded, his scowl deepening.

"That was just…" Ponyboy started, pausing to find the right word. "…wierd." He concluded.

"Yeah, weird," Dallas repeated sarcastically. "More like batshit crazy." He exclaimed loudly.

But despite all his sarcastic comments he couldn't help but be intrigued by the man walking across the parking lot.

 **Please review, at least tell me if you want this to continue or not. Please?- Macky**


	2. Chapter 2

**First of all big thanks to everyone who reviewed**

 **Second I know maybe some of the characters are a little out of character, but I'm working on it**

 **I must admit I am much happier with this chapter than the last**

 **Please enjoy**

Raindrops rolled down the wall through the cracked screen of the window. Once in a while, one of the drops would get caught on the curls of peeling paint on that sprouted from the wall and remained trapped like a fly in a spider web.

Dallas sighed deeply, watching the raindrops. He was horribly hungover, to the point that he could barely stand. It made him feel like the world was spinning much too fast, making him feel dizzy.

He closed his eyes, gladly inviting the darkness to take over his hazy vision. He hadn't slept much, maybe a nap was a good idea…

BANG!

Dallas groaned as his head began to pound, obviously due to the loud sound outside his door.

"Dallas!" The one and only Buck Merril yelled from outside his door, causing him to groan again.

"Ya know, there is a difference between knocking my door, and just hitting it." The greaser said, quickly realizing that raising his voice made his condition much worse. Buck hit his door once more, probably just to get a rise out of him.

"There's someone here to see you," Buck said, his voice low and serious. Dally sat up quickly in bed, ignoring the spinning of the room.

"Sylvia?" He asked loudly. He had gotten into a pretty bad argument with her the previous night, and they had yet to make up.

"No, not quite," Buck said, his voice less serious now, and a bit more mocking. Dally wondered if maybe he was just messing with him, maybe he just wanted to watch a sick and wobbly Dallas Winston stumble down the stairs like some sort of a pansy.

"Johnny?" He asked this time, suspecting that the short greaser would be the only one to come looking for him. But it was a Monday, and he would still be in school. Perhaps he had skipped?

BANG, BANG, BANG. Buck repeatedly hit the door, signaling that he was becoming impatient.

"Fine, I'm coming, I'm coming." He grumbled, and shakily got up from the bed, opening the door. Buck smirked upon seeing him, and Dally felt a scowl set on his own face. He figured he must scowl a lot if it had become a natural reaction for him.

"What are you smirking at, punk?" He said through clenched teeth.

"Did Dally-Wally have too much to drink?" Buck said in a voice that an elderly aunt would use with a newborn baby. "Poor, Dally-Wally." He mocked, as a smug smile set on his face.

Dallas snarled, shoving him hard. Buck's back hit the wall, and he sank down, laughing merrily to himself, apparently having the time of his life.

"It's Sylvia isn't it?" He asked, darkly. Buck always got like that when Sylvia was there to bitch at him. Buck shrugged, his back still against the wall, and smug smile still on his face.

"Maybe, maybe not," Buck said. Dally groaned again, pounding down the stairs.

"Listen, Sylvs, if you're here to start another argument, I don't wanna…"

His voice died in his throat. Because it wasn't Sylvia. It was him, it was the stranger.

"How d-did you… why did y-you?" Dallas sputtered for a moment. Then his facial features physically hardened, the fierce scowl that he had previously been wearing reappeared on his face.

"Who the fuck are you? How did you find me?" He practically roared. To his surprise, the man didn't seem disturbed by his yelling. In fact, his face didn't change, not in the slightest bit.

"Didn't ya hear, Dallas?" Buck called gleefully, running down the stairs, apparently having recovered from his laughing fit. "You're a nephew!" He cried with mock happiness.

His eyes drifted from Buck to the man, who smiled softly at Dallas, showing off two lines of straight white teeth.

"N-nephew?" Dally asked, pinching himself to see if he was dreaming. He felt it, there was no doubt about it. The man nodded once, and Dallas felt incredibly dizzy. From the shocking news of the hangover, he would never know.

"Buck." He turned back to the other greaser. "A word."

The two of them headed to the back of the room, and Dallas immediately shoved him again up against the wall once again.

"What did you tell him?" He growled, waving a hand in his face. "Is this some sort of joke?" He demanded.

"Nope." He said bluntly, the smug grin fading. "He just came in a few minutes ago for a drink and happened to mention he was here looking for his nephew. And either you and his nephew have the same name, or you are the nephew." He explained. "And you're the only Dallas Winston I know."

Dally released him from the wall and leaned against him for support, his head pounding loud enough to block out any rational thought that could be trying to get through to him.

"Listen, Dal," Buck said, completely serious now. "He's only in town for a few days, and he's the only family you got next to your old man."

Dallas pulled away from him, leaning on the wall now.

"What are you saying?" He demanded, staring at his feet to avoid accidentally gazing at the man.

"I'm saying maybe spend some time with him. Show him around Tulsa." He encouraged, crossing his arms stubbornly.

"And why would I do that?" He demanded, copying his action of crossing his arms.

"Because I think it would be good for him. For both of you." He tried to reason. "That guy, he's kind of…" He paused, his face focused, "…off." He finished.

"Off, how?" He questioned, glancing once at the stranger.

"He seems really sad. Figured maybe he's dying from some disease, maybe has a couple weeks to live." He said bluntly. Dallas snarled again.

"He seems fine to me." He commented. Buck shrugged again.

"Like I said, it would do you both some good. He seems sad, and I want you out of here for a bit. The last thing I need is you and Sylvia throwing glasses at each other and scaring people off like you were last night." He reasoned.

Dallas sighed. As much as he hated to admit it, Buck was right. He turned away from the other greaser to face the man.

"So what do you like to do for fun?"

P **lease review, and I hope you enjoyed- Macky**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you to my wonderful reviewers. You truly keep me motivated.**

 **Not much to say but enjoy**

…That's the dingo where me and my friends go sometimes. And down that road is where me and Buck race." His newly named uncle blinked once.

"Race?" He murmured, and from a certain angle, he looked like a confused child. Dally rose a brow at this, he had never seen a grown man seem so confused about

"Yeah, you know, horses?" He elaborated. His uncle nodded once. He wasn't sure if he really understood anyway.

Dallas had spent a good hour showing him around Tulsa. He was extremely quiet and seemed almost shy. Gosh, it seemed like he should have been related to Johnny Cade instead of him.

"So, uh, where are you from?" He asked. He felt extremely awkward asking it like the words weren't meant to come out of his mouth. Which was odd because usually he didn't think twice about what he should or shouldn't say.

"A place, far away from here." He said softly. "You've probably never heard of it." He continued, his voice faded away. He seemed so upset about it. Bad experiences? It was the only reasoning Dally had.

"So very, very far…" He continued to chant, almost like he was in a trance. Dally snapped his fingers in his face a couple of times, and the older man's eyes settled on him.

"What?" He asked softly, placing a hand on Dallas' shoulder. He immediately shook it off. Uncle or not he didn't like to be touched without permission. Wait, scratch that, he didn't like to be touched at all.

"You're acting real weird," Dallas stated, making sure there was a good amount of distance between them. He was honestly expecting the man to lash out, perhaps punch him.

Instead, the man just shrugged.

"How so?" He asked. Dally didn't like the way he talked, all calm and whispery. He would never admit it but it made him uneasy.

"Ya don't want to talk about yourself, you've been completely quiet this entire time…" Dally listed. His uncle shrugged.

"Not much to say I suppose." The older man replied. Dallas groaned in frustration, that hadn't been the answer he had been looking for.

The blond greaser leaned against a street lamp, holding his head in one hand. He was still incredibly tired and dizzy, obviously due to him being hungover. Funny though now that he thought about it, he didn't remember having anything to drink the night before at all…

"Ha, every time I see you I'm always in the worst condition…" He said, remembering the awful headache he had at the dingo the night they had first met. The pain had been so intense that Dally felt like he wasn't fully awake.

"…Maybe I'm allergic to ya." He joked, wondering if he couldn't get him to talk he could get him to laugh. Hey, if it worked for Two-Bit it could work for him, couldn't it? No such luck.

"What are you allergic to?" His uncle asked him, peering up at him.

"I was joking. You know, because I'm always sick when I see you?" Dallas explained weakly. He didn't mention that he wasn't exactly sick.

The man's face didn't change upon hearing his explanation. It remained in it's confused scowl and Dallas sighed again.

"Never mind, never mind…" Dally said weakly.

It was then that the greaser realized something very odd.

"Hey." He barked to the older man who had begun walking away and was now a couple of feet down the street. "What's your name?" He demanded. The man stopped suddenly, halting like a soldier.

"I prefer to remain nameless." He said casually over his shoulder as if it was acceptable to not tell a family member your name. Dally scowled, feeling his temper bubble up inside him.

"Why?" He demanded, his voice echoing a bit. The man shushed him before answering.

"Because it's not important." He said, and Dally questioned what could be more important than your name. It was a big part of who you were after all. He couldn't imagine being anything but Dallas. He was sure that if he didn't have a name it would drive him crazy.

"Why?" He questioned again, but the man now knows as Nameless continued walking.

Dallas chased after him, noticing how much faster he was walking, and how much more alone he felt now.

"W-where did everyone go?" He asked, feeling oddly out of breath. The street that had once been full of people was now empty.

The man didn't answer his question, instead, he replied with something different.

"That young lady over there wants to talk to you." He said, pointing to a nearby building. They both stopped walking after these words were spoken, and Dallas mysteriously found himself standing next to Nameless despite him being a few feet in front of him just seconds ago.

Dallas peered to his left and found the one and only Sylvia Mourney leaning against a building, slyly waving him over. He groaned, rolling his eyes.

"That ain't no lady." He grumbled. And despite not wanting to, he began to walk to her grumbling to himself. "Better go see what she wants..."

 **What'd ya think? Good? Bad? Mediocre?**

 **Please review-Macky**


	4. Chapter 4

**Don't know how I feel about this chapter. But this is a vital part of the story, so it needs to be done.**

 **Please review, or no more updates!**

 **Just kidding, I'm not that mean, but I would still appreciate if you reviewed.**

 **Oh, and the next chapter WILL be longer. Much longer**

 **Anyways, please enjoy**

"What do ya want?" Dally demanded, lighting himself a cigarette. Sylvia scowled at him, chewing on her bottom lip stubbornly.

"I want to talk to you." She informed him, her sassy tone present. It was clear she hadn't forgiven him for the fight. Dallas breathed in hard and blew a smoke ring into her face, and she coughed, fanning her hand in front of her face to blow the smoke in the opposite direction.

"Cut that out!" She cried, punching his arm. He sniggered madly, just to get on her nerves.

"I need to talk to you." She repeated. "This is serious." She had dropped the sassy tone, something that he rose a brow at. She always liked to show that she was the boss, that she was the one in charge.

Her talking in the serious tone sort of snapped him into reality. There must have been something very wrong. Perhaps she was ill? He knew that some sort of disease ran in her family, could she have gotten in that young?

"What is it?" He asked, making sure to keep his voice a steady monotone.

She was chewing on her bottom lip again. But not in the sassy annoying way she had been before. Now it was in a confused, anxious way. Almost like she…

Dally cocked his head to the side, the emotion almost didn't suit her facial features.

…like was afraid. He had never seen Sylvia afraid, not once. Especially not of him.

She murmured something, and Dally leaned in, his face just inches away from hers.

"What?!" He demanded loudly, tired of trying to pry it out of her. Sylvia growled and shoved him away.

"I'm late." She spat in a clearer voice. Dally rose a brow.

"For?" He asked. Sylvia looked at him like he was from another planet, and for a moment he wondered why. Then it hit him.

"You're pregnant?" He demanded. Sylvia didn't look nervous anymore. She looked angry and confused, and he was sure she would hit him again. Instead, she simply shushed him.

"I don't know." She said in a quiet voice. "This happens sometimes, but it's been nearly a week…" her voice drifted off, and he knew the two of them had the same thing on their minds.

"What do we do?" Dally asked, leaning against the wall. Rubbing his temples to try and relieve some of the building tension. Sylvia shook her head slowly, running a hand through her blond hair.

"I-I'm not really sure." She admitted. "I suppose that I should get a pregnancy test. And then we should go from there." Dally wanted to tell her that there was no "we" but then thought against it. Maybe she wasn't pregnant, and the world was just taunting him. The world was funny like that.

Instead, he turned on his heels and walked in the direction he had previously been headed. He could feel Sylvia's eyes burning into the back of his head, watching him go.

"I'll see you around." He called from over his shoulder. She was chewing on her lip again.

"I love you." She called back. It wasn't the first time she had said this, she usually did

it when he was angry and wanted to soften him a bit. Sometimes he even responded.

He didn't this time, he just observed the dark sky, noticing how late it had gotten.

 **Please review-Macky**


	5. Chapter 5

**First of all, big thanks to everyone who reviewed, as always, very helpful.**

 **I must say I'm much more satisfied with this chapter than the last**

 **Please enjoy**

Where've you been for last few days, Dal?" The red-headed greaser questioned curiously. Dally rolled his eyes.

"Why do you need to know, Two-Bit?" He said, mocking the older greaser's curious tone, a shit-eating smile painted on his face. Two-Bit scowled darkly, silently giving Dallas the finger under the table. This caused Dally's grin to grow, the obscene gesture feeding his cockiness.

Now that the temperature was dropping, Dallas had begun to spend more time at the Curtis'. He did it every year. During the winter Buck's got busier, and he knew that going back home wasn't an option. He was currently having dinner at the Curtis house, and a certain jokester had decided to join them.

"Yeah, Dal, where you been?" Johnny piped up, looking up at him. He shrugged, standing up, and scraping half of his food onto the younger greaser's plate. He knew that he needed it more than him.

"Around." He said because he liked watching them squirm, desperate to find out what he had been doing. They were fun to play around with.

"Around doing what?" Ponyboy questioned. Dally rolled his eyes, tossing his plate into the sink.

Darry, who was leaning against the wall, looked up at him, and Dally shifted uncomfortably. Even though he reassured him that he cared about him, and always invited him into their home, he always felt like deep down Darry was scared of him.

And maybe Dallas was was scared of Darry.

A couple of months ago Dallas brought Sodapop to a party, and the younger boy had nearly gotten blackout drunk. He had delivered the middle Curtis child to his house in a stumbling, dazed mess. And the look that he had gotten from Darry was enough to convince Dallas that they weren't friends anymore.

"Yeah, where have you been?" Darry asked, but his voice wasn't playful or curious like the other boys. It was cold and demanding, and even Dallas knew that it was time to fess up.

"So, you remember when we were at the dingo a couple weeks ago and that Physco guy came up to us?" He asked, not waiting for an answer. After all, they had to be crazy to forget that night. "Well it turns out that he's my uncle, the freak came to Tulsa to look for me." Dallas continued, and to his surprise, he felt weird insulting his family member. "And I guess he found me." He said casually, expecting that to be the end of the conversation.

He was dead wrong.

The first things he noticed was their shell-shocked faces. He rose a brow, finding that he was now the confused and curious one.

"What?" He questioned bluntly.

"Well..um...u-uh…" Two-Bit stuttered his eyes uncharacteristically wide.

"Well?" Dallas demanded his hands on his hips.

"I don't exactly, remember that Dallas," Two-Bit confessed quietly. Ponyboy and Johnny nodded, eyeing each other, a looking a bit nervous. Dallas swore that they had gone insane.

"How the fuck do you not remember that?" He demanded, slamming his hands down on the table, as the two younger boys jumped at the loud noise. Dallas glanced at them sympathetically, a silent apology.

"Aw, you know me." Two-Bit began in a cheerful tone. "I don't remember what happened five minutes ago.' He said casually, but Dallas saw the worry, in his eyes. Apparently Two-Bit thought he was the one who had lost his mind. Perhaps he was, he didn't really don't know at that point.

"How's Sylvie?" Two-Bit quickly changed the subject. Dallas first cringed at his sort-of-girlfriend's nickname. It sounded childish and stupid, he didn't know how she had gotten it. Then his face fell once he really processed the question. His eyes drifted from Ponyboy, and then Johnny, and finally Two-Bit. He didn't look at Darry, he already knew what his face looked like.

"She's pregnant." He admitted, staring at the floor. The three younger greasers gasped, and Darry remained silently, his eyes silently boring into the back of his head.

"Are you kidding me?" Two-Bit demanded, jumping up, and waving his arms wildly. It would have been hilarious if it had been any other situation. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He demanded, almost in hysterics He knew how hard it would be for them to have a kid. They were both drop-outs, neither of them would be thrilled about the idea of commitment

Two-Bit seemed to collect himself a bit, collapsing into the nearest chair, pressing his lips together, thoughtfully.

"What are you gonna do, Dallas," Johnny asked, grinding his teeth anxiously, and Dallas wished that he hadn't said anything, not in front of the kids.

"I don't know, Johnnycake." He admitted. He clasped his hands together tightly so the younger boy wouldn't see that he was shaking. "There could be a possibility that she's not, but…" His voice faded away and he struggled to find the words to continue. "...I just don't know."

"I'll tell you what you're going to do." The oldest greaser in the room piped up. Dallas winced silently to himself. Here it comes, there was no avoiding it now. "You're going to deal with this, get a good paying job." Darry started, talking to him slowly.

"I ain't dealing with that shit," Dallas replied stubbornly, the anger bubbling up inside him dangerously. "Ya know you always think you're right you-"

"EY!" A voice rang out sharply. Dallas turned around in surprise, facing the other greaser. Two-Bit stared back, arms folded stubbornly.

"Not here, not now." He commanded, nodding once at the younger greasers beside him. They looked surprised but not afraid. Dallas growled but obeyed, as Darry nodded understandingly.

Dally stormed towards the front door. Sodapop and Steve, who had been outside the door leading to the kitchen, leaped out of the way as he approached. They knew not to mess with Dallas when he got like that.

"Are you feeling better, Dallas?" A voice called from the kitchen. Darry's voice was surprisingly calm and quiet, almost soothing. Dally presumed he was talking about the illness he had caught while a Buck's a couple nights ago.

"Yeah." He called as he left, slamming the door behind him.

 **So, what do you think is going to happen. Is Sylvia pregnant? And why don't the other greasers remember the night they met Dal's uncle. I'd love to hear some of your theories. Though I already know what happens…**

 **Anyways thanks for reading, and please review- Macky**


	6. Chapter 6

**I'm actually really enjoying writing this story**

 **I just wanted to thank everyone for reviewing**

 **An additional note, don't worry if you're confused, I wrote it to be like that. It will make sense by the end.**

 **Please enjoy**

He cracked his eyes open, the sun shining brightly from the dirty window. His headache was back, pounding away like a hammer. He groaned, struggling to sit up holding his head with one hand. He couldn't recall having anything to drink, and yet he was incredibly dizzy…

There was the faint sound of chatter from downstairs, probably people who had stayed there all night from the evening before. People always seemed to stay later at Buck's during the winter when it got cold outside. He did it himself in fact when he didn't feel like bugging the Curtis'.

He searched through his mind for some memories of the previous night. To his surprise, he couldn't find any. Perhaps he had some alcohol the previous night, it wouldn't surprise him, it wasn't like he watched his drinking or anything. But it also wasn't like him to not be able to hold his alcohol...

He sighed forcing himself out of bed. His limbs seemed to fight him on this action, aching in protest. He stood despite the pain, stretching his back.

"Goddamnit." He murmured to himself, for no particular reason. Perhaps swearing made him feel better, took away the pain in some ways.

He exited his room, slamming his door loudly. Going down the flight of stairs was even more difficult than getting out of bed, each step sent a searing pain through his legs, part of him was surprised that he made it. Maybe really was sick, and not just hungover.

As he approached the bottom of the stairs he observed the scene. Ten to fifteen people were in the main room, though he didn't recognize anyone there. Odd, he knew most people who showed up to Buck's especially the ones who felt comfortable enough to stay all night. Perhaps they were Buck's relatives visiting, or people from out of town he reasoned with himself.

Some of the people were sleeping or passed out, a few sat around the bar striking up a conversation. One man, in particular, was trying to get a young woman to go home with him. Dallas rolled his eyes at this, though he wasn't sure why. Most of the others were playing pool or cards, taking the morning as one last chance to gamble.

He was considering joining the game of poker when he spotted another lone figure in the corner of his eye. As soon as he moved his head to see who this figure was the man that he knew only as his uncle stepped out from the shadows, this time a bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hello, Dallas." He said simply, his eyes darting around almost nervously.

The greaser's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I thought you were only in town for a few days." Dally reminded him, trying to catch his eye. His uncle shrugged looking off to the side.

Without another word, he reached into his bag, and pulled something out, handing it to Dally. He stared at it for a moment, wondering if it was some sort of joke. It was simply a black book, with a plain velvety cover. There was no pictures or words on it, it was simply a plain book.

"What the fuck is this?" He demanded waving the book in his face. The older man blinked once, and Dally felt some sort of relief flood through him. Finally some sort of reaction from this guy…

His surprised expression left as soon as it came, and he wore the neutral face that he always wore. He looked like he was almost bored.

"Why don't you find out?" Nameless told him and the question didn't quite sound like a question and more like a command. Dally was about to tell him off about how he didn't like to be told what to do. But he never got the chance to. With a blink of an eye his uncle had turned and had walked away, and within a few seconds was already out the door.

Dally was contemplating going after him when he felt a second presence beside him.

"Whatcha got there?" Buck Merril, who had really come out of nowhere, questioned.

"A book," Dally whispered, confused as ever.

"What kind of book?" Buck asked, reaching to open it.

Dallas froze. Of course, Buck was his friend, and in any other situation, he might have given him the book. But after the encounter with his uncle, he found himself sort of unsure. It wasn't his boom after all.

"No." He decided out loud, pushing his hand away, hugging the book to his chest. "No." He repeated almost on autopilot.

"Dally, what's up man?" Buck asked, but his voice sounded quiet and distant like he was underwater. He wanted to respond but he found that he couldn't, breathing heavily like he had been running for a long time.

He turned, the book still tight against his chest. Before anyone could say or do anything else he bolted up the stairs, his sore limbs screaming in protest.

He found himself in his room once again, turning his attention to the mysterious boom once again. He held it out at arm's length treating the book as if it were a wild animal, and he could deny it all he wanted but he felt a bit afraid, though he couldn't quite figure out why he was afraid.

Suddenly his fear was replaced by anger. He glared at the book, surprised that he could feel such hatred towards an inanimate object. He threw it towards the bed, aiming for it to land on said bed.

Instead, the book bounced off the mattress and landed, open on the ground.

Part of Dally's mind was screaming at him, to go downstairs and join that game of poker like he had originally planned. So a book fell, so what?

But despite himself, he moved forward peering at the book curiously. He crouched down observing the pages carefully.

There were four pictures, spaced so much that it almost awkward. The first picture was of a young couple, smiling while they were getting married, though the man seemed much happier than the woman. The next was a slightly blurry picture of a Christmas tree, nothing struck him as odd.

The last two were baby pictures. One baby looking straight forwards, with wide brown eyes. The other who looked similar except with blue eyes.

"Oh, good lord," Dally exclaimed, just so something would fill the silence. He flipped through the pages less observantly. Each page had four pictures, no words or description.

Dally stood up from his crouched position, deciding he needed to confront his uncle.

 **I'm so TIRED.**

 **Please review**


	7. Chapter 7

**I tried to get some more of the characters feelings into this chapter. I thought it would make it a bit more emotional.**

 **I will never get over that Dally's middle name is Tucker**

 **Please enjoy**

He stomped down the stairs in a blind rage, the angered that had recently been replaced with fear and confusion had returned. Dallas pushed through groups of people, swinging the door of the bar open.

The stranger was leaning up against the wall, coolly smoking a cigarette. He had so little emotion that he almost looked lifeless. Like a statue made of marble or an old china doll, his face was perfectly crafted into a straight, unmoving frown. His brown eyes were wide but dull, observing the smoke from his mouth uncurling like a ribbon.

"You!" Dally snapped, coming to a halt a few feet before him. His eyes never left the trail of smoke.

"I gave you the book, I didn't expect to see you so soon." He said simply, letting the cigarette fall from his fingers. Dally's eyes locked on it, observing the littered ashes on the cool concrete. For a moment he couldn't say anything, he couldn't tear his eyes from the dropped cigarette.

"Y-you, w-what is- er..." Dallas stuttered, feeling himself sway slightly from side to side, his head feeling rather dizzy. He finally found his words.

"What the fuck is this!?" He demanded, and before he could stop himself he threw the book to the ground. His uncle's frown twitched slightly.

"Don't do that. It's your book." He said simply, bending down and picking the black book up.

"What do you mean it's mine?" Dally demanded, his voice becoming quieter. Wordlessly his uncle opened the cover of the book. He held it towards him so that he could see the page, and he ran his finger over the corner of the page, signaling him to read it.

In the right corner of the page in messy writing, a handwriting that he didn't recognize, it read his full name, Dallas Tucker Winston.

"How?" He demanded because it was the only thing he could think of to say. "How?" He demanded, shaking his head in confusion. He was pretty sure he would remember putting together a photo album.

"It was a gift." The older man started, a smile full of sadness painted on his lips. "A gift they never got to give to you." He said as a vague explanation.

Then, he sat down in the middle of the sidewalk. Right there, vulnerable and in the way, right in the middle of the path. Dallas found this a bit ridiculous, and yet he found himself sinking down beside him.

"What would you like to know?" He asked softly, in an almost soothing voice, slowly drumming the cover of the book with his fingertips. The strange noise caused a shiver to go up to his spine, and he felt like in a was he had been hypothesized by the drumming noise. Dally felt some relief flood into him, like water escaping a dam. He was incredibly thankful that he would at least be getting some answers.

He slowly took the heavy book from his uncle's hands, and for a moment just ran his finger against the black cover. It felt rough and worn out, and he wondered how old the book was.

He quickly flipped through the pages, before settling on the one with the Christmas tree, the married couple, and the two baby pictures.

"What is this?" He asked. But his tone wasn't sharp or demanding, but calm and curious. His uncle's brow flew up, as he pointed to the picture of the Christmas tree.

"That's a tree." He said in a calm voice, without any humor, but with a bit of mischief in his intense brown eyes. Dally rolled his eyes.

"Har-de-har-har." He said sarcastically, punching him gently in the arm. "And the other three?" He asked calmly, quickly tapping the three remaining pictures. He uncle's raised brow slowly lowered and any happiness or excitement that had been in his eyes immediately left.

His fingers gently grazed the picture of the married couple.

"You really don't remember them, do you?" He said slowly, his eyes locked on the picture.

"Should I?" He asked softly, a feeling of guilt filling his chest.

"You should, they are your parents after all." The guilt disappeared. He didn't like thinking about his parents, especially before he was born. It made him feel unwanted an useless, it was a reminder that they hadn't wanted him. That he had practically ruined their lives.

"I don't want to talk about them." He said simply, looking away from the picture. His uncle sighed.

"Alright, as you wish." He said as he began closing the book." Dally's brow flew up.

"Wait, wait, wait!" He said, jamming his hand between the half-closed book, keeping it open. "You said you would explain this to me." He said almost accusingly, waving a finger in his face.

"I can't explain if you refuse to accept your past." His uncle said softly, looking at the ground. Dallas swallowed hard, processing what his uncle had said. Get through the hard stuff to uncover more of his past. He nodded slowly, opening the book with his hand that wasn't trapped within the pages.

"The baby pictures?" Dally asked softly, looking the older man in the eye.

"What color are the baby's eyes?" His uncle asked, pointing to one of the pictures. Dallas peered at the picture.

"Blue." He said, wondering why he was asking him that. It was obvious, it was only a color.

"And what color are your eyes?" He asked. It clicked.

"That's me." He said, smiling softly. It had never occurred to him that there was any pictures of him as a young child, let alone a baby. It made him feel good, like less of an outcast. More normal, in a way.

But his uncle wasn't wearing the same cheerful grin he was. In fact he looked upset, for a reason that he couldn't understand. He didn't know what he had to be sad about. He couldn't have said anything to upset him, and yet he looked ready to burst into tears. Man, this guy was weird…

"And the other baby? The one with the brown eyes?" Dally asked, feelings the brief grin slide into his usual frown.

"Elisabeth." The stranger said, his eyes full of grief, and sadness. "Elisabeth Winston." He blinked once at the unfamiliar name.

"She has brown eyes, just like you," Dally observed out loud. "Is she your child?" He asked, waiting for his uncle's facial expression to change. It was the only logical explanation. The greaser and the baby in the photograph had the same last name, but wouldn't him and his uncle have the same last name as well? And with those deep brown eyes, she surely should have been his child…

But his uncle's face didn't change, nor in the slightest way.

"Who else has brown eyes, Dallas?" He eyes scanned the page, there weren't any other photographs on this page, except for…

He breathed in sharply as he finally understood.

"My mother." He said, carefully observing the picture once again, and found that his mother did indeed have brown eyes partially hidden by her Lacey wedding veil.

"She's my niece." His uncle began. "Well, she was my niece." He paused, letting that sink in. "And she was your sister." Dally's eyes widened, and his uncle's eyes found his.

"What happened to her?" He asked quietly, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer.

"She passed away, Dallas." The older man asked, his voice soft and gentle.

"How?" He asked, gently dragging his finger across the photograph.

"I think that's enough." His uncle said, standing up, and sliding the book into his lap. Before Dallas could ask what that meant he was already down the street, leaving him alone on the sidewalk.

 **Please review- Macky**


	8. Chapter 8

**Aw, man, this one was difficult to write. Anyone who loves Johnny and Dallas will hate me for this one.**

 **I hope you enjoy anyway.**

 _The sky was pitch black, and the road was long. It seemed that he had been walking for miles now, and he was beginning to suspect that this road went on for much longer, though he didn't know how much more he could take. He couldn't see very well, and it was terribly cold._

 _But he could hear them calling for him. It had started out as faint whispered that had traveled with the wind. But as he got closer and closer the voices got louder. They were yelling his name, telling him to come to them._

 _But he couldn't. The winds had grown stronger now, and he could feel that it had gotten particularly cold on his right hand. Odd, why could he feel the wind on one part of his body more than the others? This road was doing weird things to him…_

 _He couldn't move anymore, he was frozen in place. It reminded him of a children's cartoon where the villain would get frozen in an ice cube with a horrified look on their face. He used to find that hilarious when he was young, the thought of someone turning into a giant ice cube was amusing to him. It wasn't so amusing to him anymore._

He couldn't see anymore, everything had faded to black. The people's voices, the ones who had been calling him, their voices got so loud that his ears were now ringing from hearing them. He couldn't breathe either, an invisible force had placed itself on his chest and had been crushing it slowly ever since. He gasped for breath, it was killing him…

He shot up still breathing loudly. It took him a moment to adjust his eyes to the dark room. He quickly identified the room as the Curtis' living room, and upon that realization, he noticed that he was sprawled on their old sofa.

Dally frowned upon noticing that his right hand was still cold, just like in the twisted dream. Looking over he spotted that his right hand was hanging over the side of the sofa, right over the air vent. Of course, the air conditioning was on, Darry had a thing about keeping the house cold, even in the winter.

He stood, moving as quietly as he could to the kitchen, knowing that he wouldn't be getting any more sleep anytime soon. On his way to the kitchen, he noticed a smaller figure curled up in one of the reclining chairs.

Johnny. Dallas breathed a sigh of relief that he was there instead of at home. If he could even call that a home.

He grabbed a mug from the cupboard and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot that was sitting on the counter. The drink was cold, but it peeled him up just the same. He sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, and peered into the cup, tapping the side anxiously.

"Oh." The single syllable made his head snap up, though the voice was familiar.

"Hey, Johnnycake." He whispered, not wanting to wake any of the others. He found that he hadn't called his younger friend that nickname for a while, and the other members of the gang had begun to use it less as well. Perhaps, Dallas thought to himself, Johnny was too old for nicknames. "What's up?" He questioned.

"Couldn't sleep." He responded, and Dallas noted the dark circles around his eyes and wondered exactly how long it had been since his friend had gotten a good night's rest. He wondered if he ever did, it didn't seem like it.

"Why're you up?" Johnny asked. Dally shrugged.

"Nightmare." He said, feeling an odd feeling of shame. He didn't want to admit that the nightmare had scared him so bad that he didn't want to go back to sleep.

"You wanna talk about it?" The young man asked, half-heartedly, cocking his head to the side. He was leaned against the door frame now, in a relaxed fashion. He didn't have much enthusiasm in his voice, he already knew what the answer would be.

"No," Dally said quickly. Too quickly. It wouldn't convince anyone. But none the less Johnny nodded and dropped it.

"Are you-" Johnny began to ask but seemed to stop himself. Dally rose a brow, leaning forward in curiosity.

"Am I what?" He demanded, and he watched his squirm uncomfortably at being put on the spot.

"Are you leaving the gang?" He asked after a few moments. Dallas almost laughed at the ridiculous statement. Then he saw the kid's face.

Now Dally was tall, he was a little over six feet, a few inches taller than Johnny's five foot nine frame. When Johnny was standing up straight he was about up to his mouth. When he looked at him he could usually only see the top of his head until he looked down.

But when Dally was sitting in the old rickety wooden chair he was looking straight into his eyes. He didn't look scared, just sad. Dally slowly realized that Johnny actually thought he was abandoning them.

"I ain't going nowhere, Johnny." He reassured him, taking another sip from his coffee. Johnny didn't seem convinced.

"Then why don't you hang around as much?" He demanded, his voice raising slightly. Damnit. How was he supposed to answer that? 'I'm uncovering my dark past?' 'I'm a shitty person and I don't want you to get hurt by that?' Neither of them seemed like a good excuse.

"I don't fucking know!" He said, his voice raising a bit as well. "Buck has a room for me, the Curtis' house gets crowded quickly." These were all lies, but the lies were better than the truth.

Johnny facial expression didn't was still that hurt anxious face.

"I'm not going anywhere." He repeated. "We're family." He added casually.

Johnny's face had changed now. But it wasn't the relaxed, calm face that one might expect his face to shift into upon hearing these words. It was angry, a scowl full of agony. Dallas swore that look could take down an army of a thousand men.

"How do you expect me to believe that when you obviously don't." Dally tried to deny it. To tell another lie. But he couldn't, he wouldn't believe him. And he wouldn't believe himself either.

Dally had to grip his coffee cup, staring at the dark liquid as Johnny awaited his answer. But there was no answer. And when Dally looked back at the doorway where he had previously been, Johnny was gone. It seemed he had quietly slipped away, he didn't know to where.

Sighing, Dallas put his cheek on the cold wood of the kitchen table, his heart aching, and wondered how his life could fall apart so quickly.

* **Sighs sadly***

 **I feel like their a bit out of character. I have a harder time writing Johnny. I'll have to work on that**

 **Anyways, thanks for reading and please review.**


	9. Chapter 9

**What up? I'm back. Sorry about the long wait, I had military training and school work, and just never got around to finishing this chapter.**

 **I feel bad for being so mean to Dal.**

 **Please enjoy.**

Dallas awoke, cracking open his eyes an inch. He had been sleeping in an odd position, hunched over with his face on the table, with his body still upright as he sat in the chair. It was quite uncomfortable, and it left him very sore.

At that moment the blond greaser scolded himself, calling himself stupid for not moving while he was falling asleep. But then he remembered how comforting the table had been the wood had been cold, his face had felt like it burning after his nightmare and his fight with Johnny.

No, not a fight. He reminded himself, snapping his eyes shut once again, as he didn't even have enough energy to keep them open. Fighting is what he did with his dad, the screaming and throwing of punches, and hatred.

That little argument had practically been nothing compared to those fights. But despite that, Dally felt even worse then he did after fighting with his father. A deep guilt had set in his chest.

Now Dallas Winston was obviously not an angel. He had been in a gang, lied, stole, and cheated, and jumped little kids. Some people may have called him evil. And deep down, maybe a little part of him agreed. He had done all those awful things, and the only thing that made him feel guilty was a small argument.

And needless to say, the guilt was tearing him apart.

The Curtis' were getting ready for their day, but Dally could barely hear them over the quick pounding of his heart. He considered leaving before any of them noticed that he was there. But of course, nothing would go the way he wanted...

The door slammed, and all six feet of Steve Randle appeared before him.

"Howdy, Dally!" He shouted, announcing his presence to the whole world. Dally groaned, putting his head on the table once again.

Soda was the first of the brothers to make to way into the kitchen, tapping the back of Dallas' head in a friendly sort of way as he passed by him. He must have noticed that Dally had been having a tough morning.

"Hey, Dal." Sodapop greeted, as Steve slung an arm around the middle Curtis brother's shoulders. "You stayed the night?" He sounded surprised, it wasn't very often that Dally slept over at the Curtis residence. He felt more like an intruder than a friend.

He lifted his head, his eyes still locked on the table, and nodded stiffly. A thick silence hung in the air, daring them to ask any more questions. Steve and Soda eyed each other nervously but didn't say anything. They knew not to mess with Dally when he got like that. Everyone knew that.

"You shouldn't slam the door like that." A second, younger voice called from the living room, and Dallas could picture him putting his books into his bag before he ate his breakfast just like he did every morning.

"Oh, yeah? What are you going to do about it?" Steve challenged, eyes narrowing and his arms rooted to his sides.

"Shut up, kid," Dallas called from his spot at the table, he knew that he wasn't going to able to handle another argument, even if it was only one of Steve and Ponyboy's usual banters. Steve smiled in victory upon hearing this command, and Dally's fiery gaze turned to the older greaser. "You too, Randle." He said. The wide grin faded.

"Hey, where's Johnny?" Ponyboy called, breaking the silence. Dally growled under his breath. Damn, couldn't this kid take a hint? "I sware that he was going to stay the night." He continued stepping into the kitchen.

Dally gritted his teeth, his fingernails digging into his palms.

"What's wrong?" Ponyboy asked gently, his voice full of empathy for understanding. Dally closed his eyes, trying to block out Pony, and Soda and Steve and everything else. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he shook, not a tremble but a thrash, to knock the hand off.

It was then when he opened his eyes to find a very surprised Sodapop, his brown eyes wide, and lips pressed together. He took a step back when Dally's cold, dangerous eyes locked on his.

"L-look man, I didn't mean to scare you." Sodapop, stuttered, glancing once at Steve with uncertainty.

"Why aren't you telling us? Don't you trust us?" Pony questioned again, and this time it hit them.

"You don't trust us, do you?" Sodapop said, but it wasn't a question. It was a fact, something that they had just realized. It was the truth, and everyone knew it.

"We're your family, Dallas." A fourth voice called from behind them. Dally looked up to find Darry leaning against the door frame to the kitchen like he did every morning. It was familiar, almost too familiar. It was making his head spin.

"I don't know where Johnny is, there's nothing wrong," Dally said, finally finding his voice. The other glanced uncertainly at each other, but not at him. Except for one person.

"There's is something wrong. You have to tell us. We're your family." Darry repeated, his eyes locked on the back of the younger greaser's head. Dally leaped up, turning sharply and knocking over the chair in the process. It clattered off the floor loudly, making everyone including himself jump.

"You're not my family. I don't have a family." He said coldly, his eyes locked on the floor. "I don't have anyone." He swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat, it refused to move and he ended up chocking himself.

"I don't have anyone," Dally repeated, and without meaning to found his feet carrying him to the doorway were Darry stood. The older man glared at him for a moment, before side stepping out of the way.

Dallas let his feet carry him out of the house, and let his mind stay blank while his heart ached.

 **Good? Bad? Unbearable? Let me know!**

 **Thank you to anyone who reviewed the last chapter, as always it is very appreciated.**

 **-Macky**


	10. Chapter 10

I **just wanted to let you guys know that I would have never gotten this chapter done if I didn't catch the flu from my nephew.**

 **Just a small warning it might be a while until I get the next chapter up. I'm visiting family in Canada right now, and I have a lot of shit to do for remembrance day. Gotta love military training, man.**

 **Anyways, please enjoy.**

The alleyway was cold in the morning, the cold November wind nipped at his cheeks and nose. He shivered, leaning against the wall, holding his head in one hand. His knees were slowly giving out, and he slowly slid down, his back against the wall.

He knew he should have found somewhere warm to go, perhaps gone to Buck's. But he was so tired and miserable that he couldn't be bothered. To be perfectly honest getting frostbite was the least of his worries at the moment.

 _Get yourself together, Dallas_. His mind screamed at him, his head a raging storm. He tried to ignore it but found that he could not make his mind go silent. He whimpered silently, sinking down to his knees, his back roughly getting scraped by the uneven bricks of the wall he had been leaning against.

He was incredibly drowsy, he hadn't gotten much sleep. And the more he thought about it, falling asleep and escaping the world for a while really sounded nice. His eyes slid closed, as nodded off once again.

Like anyone would be he was angry when some idiot decided to loudly walk through the alleyway, startling him awake. He groaned, a horrible mixture of nausea and pain filling his head. Man, what was up with these random moments of being sick?

He sprung to his feet, ready to cuss out whoever had interrupted his sleep. True, perhaps he didn't need to sleep in the alleyway, but the jerk didn't need to walk through the alleyway like he had weights tapped to the bottom of their shoes.

Whoever was walking through was right beside him now, and without thinking about it, Dally threw a punch aiming for the person's jaw. The person staggered back a few feet, and Dally groaned in frustration.

Then he got a good look at the guy, and his eyes caught sight of the man's familiar brown eyes.

"Oh, hey it's…you," Dally said, his head spinning. His uncle nodded.

"It's me. You know me, so why were you trying to maim me?" He asked, his intense dark eyes shifting around suspiciously.

"You woke me up, sorry," Dally explained sheepishly. His uncle rose a brow at this, taking a step forward. "I guess you kind of startled me." He explained, a nervous but genuine smile spreading across his face. He was happy to see his uncle again.

"I'm sorry that I startled you, but why are you sleeping in the lot?" He questioned, taking another step forward, and putting a hand on his shoulder. For once Dally didn't try to shake it off. "It's very cold." He added.

"I had a fight with my friends, I don't think I'm very welcome there right now." He explained, tearing his eyes away from his. Though he now felt at ease with the older man, he still felt as if his deep dark eyes could see straight into his soul.

"What was your fight about?" He asked, his head cocked to the side, showing his curiosity as a young child would. Dallas looked away, ashamed.

"I'm close with my friends, but…" Dally started mournfully, a heavy feeling in his heart. "…we're not as close as they would like to be. I said some things that I probably shouldn't have. He finished, his eyes locked on the ground.

"Like?" His uncle questioned, not a single trace of emotion on his face.

"I said, their not family, that I don't have a family." He admitted, his eyes shifting to look from the ground up to the cloudy sky, but never looking at the older man.

"Of course their not your family." A sharp voice ran out. If Dallas hadn't known any better he would have thought there was in his voice. But his uncle was practically emotionless, the sharp call was to get Dally's attention.

"You don't come from the same parents, you're not relegated by blood." He said, folding his arms behind his back, rocking back and forth on his heels. "Blood is thicker than water, after all." He lectured sternly. The strictness surprised him, it was very foreign to Dally.

Dally frowned, despite the truth that was in his uncle's words he couldn't help but feel anger towards them. Perhaps he didn't see them as his family, but they were still his friends. It was one of those moments that the truth isn't what he wanted to hear.

"Yeah." He mumbled quietly, mostly because he didn't know what else to say. His eyes were locked on the ground once again.

"But you do have a family, Dallas." He told him. Dally's head snapped up.

"What do you mean?" The blond man questioned. The ghost of a smile was painted on his uncle's lips.

"You have your parents. You had Elisabeth, she was your sister." Dally groaned. He couldn't help himself.

"I hate to break it to you, but I'm not exactly my parent's favorite person in the world." He told his uncle. "And Elisabeth isn't exactly… um, alive." Dally stated, thinking about his words.

"I know that." His uncle replied. "I know that." He repeated softly.

"And you have me." He told him. "I'm your family, you might think you're alone, but you're not."

"You're my…family," Dally said, pronouncing the words carefully like he was sounding them out.

"Of course, I am. I'm your uncle." He flashed Dally his classic smile. The one We're his lips were pulled into a grin, but you could see the misery filling his eyes. Dally smiled back, wondering if he looked as upset as the other male.

Without any warning or reason, the older man stepped forward, and before he could protest wrapped his arms around him. Dally stood shocked for a moment, before leaning against the older man's shoulder, in some form of acceptance.

And despite the warmth and attention, Dallas couldn't shake off a feeling that was seeping into his chest.

The feeling that something horrible was going to happen.

 **Ahhh, the suspense. I'm agitated by it, and I know what happens!**

 **Please review, and I hope you enjoyed, Macky**


	11. Chapter 11

Ugh, this is not nearly as long I wanted it to be, AND it feels really rushed.

Oh well, this will have to do, I guess.

Warning- Death, and grief, and an overall poorly written chapter

"I want to know about Elisabeth." Were the first words that left his mouth as they pulled apart from their hug. His uncle mentioning his so-called older sibling before had brought all the questions back into his mind. At first, the older man opened his mouth, his features obviously displaying that he was going to protest. Dally cut him off from what he was going to say, deciding it was time to put his foot down.

"Don't say it." He said, shaking a finger at him. "Don't give me your usual 'not now,' or 'I prefer not to talk about it.'" The blond greaser said in a harsh tone. His uncle almost looked hurt. "She was my sister." He said a little gentler, the words sounding a little weird coming from his mouth.

"She was older than you." His uncle started mournfully, and this little fact shocked him. His mother had been so young when she had him, and if Elisabeth had been older than him, she must have become a mother so young…

"You were just a baby when she passed." He said. "That must be why you don't remember her, you were so young." His uncle explained. "She was so young." He said, his voice cracking. It was the most emotion he had ever seen the older man show. It looked odd to him like his facial features weren't meant to show sadness.

Dally, on the other hand, was having a hard time coping with all this. He never thought he would feel such strong emotions about someone he had never met. He tried not to get too close to anyone, so he had never had to deal with grief.

He remembered when he grandfather had died when he was nine. He and his father had just moved to New York from their home in Michigan, where Dallas was born and his grandparents lived at the time. Even though he had met his grandfather a few times, he wasn't extremely affected by the death.

But now he was barely keeping it together, hearing about the death of his older sibling was harder than he thought it was going to be. He had always been envious of Darry and Sodapop and Ponyboy, and how the oldest of the Curtis brothers had taken it the two younger ones.

He highly doubted that he would be taken in by anyone if anything happened to his father. He even had a strong feeling that if

Elisabeth had been alive he probably wouldn't have the same relationship with her as the Curtis brothers had. Still, it made him feel a little less alone knowing at one point there was another Winston in the world, next to his father of course.

"She was sweet, bubbly little girl." His uncle continued after composing himself. "Your parents obviously didn't exactly plan to have her, but they loved her anyway." He said. He paused for a moment, chewing hard on his lip.

"She was four at the time of the accident." He said slowly, his eyes rolled up to look at the stormy grey sky.

"Accident?" Dally murmured softly, shaking his head slowly.

"You okay, Dallas?" His uncle asked, cocking his head to the side once again. The younger man rolled his eyes.

"Peachy." He snapped, but the hurt look on his uncle's face made him lower his voice a bit. "Sorry, it's just hard to hear all of this." He admitted. The older man nodded in a sympathetic, understanding way, the small action filled Dally's chest with an odd warm feeling.

"Of course." His uncle said, nodding again. "But you wanted to know, may I carry on?" He asked, in an odd sort of way, like he was too prideful to be interrupted, it made his temper flare, but he didn't say anything.

"You see the apartment building your family lived in was quite old." He began again. "You see, their apartment had very old furniture, especially the kitchen appliances." He said. He chewed on his lip again. "I guess the gas from the stove leaked one night, and slowly filled the kitchen." He sighed once again, the grief and anger mixed in his voice.

"Your sister's room was right next to the kitchen I believe." His uncle paused again, his eyes fluttering closed. Dally swallowed hard, not sure if he wanted to hear the rest of the story.

"Someone..." he paused again. "…lit a match." He finished, and Dally felt his heart sink. "Apparently the power went out, and someone was going to light a candle, give you guys some sort of light." He took a deep breath, but Dally already knew what he was going to say. "From what I've heard the explosion was extremely big and very hot." He finished. "They never found her body." He explained.

"Wow," Dally said, his blue eyes as big as dinner plates. "I never thought, I just-" he stammered for a bit. "Wow." He said again because there was nothing else he could say.

"I know it's very shocking." His uncle said sympathetically. He nodded again, feeling lost for words.

"…But who lit the match." He asked, his eyes narrowing. If it was his old man, he would probably never forgive him, even if that was unfair, Dallas didn't care. He just felt like someone needed to be blamed.

"She did."

"She?" Dally asked in a disbelieving tone. He surely couldn't be playing the mystery guy game again, after that story he just couldn't.

"Your aunt, my wife." The older man clarified. "She lit the match."

Dally swallowed hard because they were alone, it was just the two of them. Since said aunt and wife wasn't there with them…

"She didn't survive." It wasn't a question that left the younger man's mouth, it was a statement. It just added everything up, his uncle's gloominess, his reputation as a loner, it was all adding up now.

"What was her name, how did you meet?" Dallas questioned, a new set of questions in his mind.

His uncle just gave his sad smile, tracing the dark circles under his nephew's eyes with his smallest finger.

"Oh, Dallas. You're so tired, I think you need some more sleep." He practically cooed something that made Dallas feel rather uncomfortable.

And before Dally could say anything else the older man had vanished into thin air.

I hope that you at least enjoyed this a little bit

-Macky


	12. Chapter 12

**So I, uh, kinda forgot this story existed, I feel like it's been forever since I updated. I've had this sitting in a folder for a little over a week, and I don't know how good it is, but the show must go on.**

 **So enjoy and please review.**

The walk to Buck's was short, and yet his legs ached like a bastard by the time that he got there. There weren't many people in the small bar, and most of them were drunk, and yet Dally felt like a million pairs of eyes were eyeing him down as he stormed into the small building.

"I need the key to my room." He told Buck, holding out his hand to receive said key. The greaser sighed.

"It's not your room," Buck said stubbornly. "Everything in this bar is mine, I pay for all this shit." He said.

"Give. Me. The. Key." Dally growled in a dangerous and yet calm voice. He was stubborn, he already knew he was getting that key.

"Wait, you can't just disappear for a few days and then demand to disappear into your room. Where have you been, man?"

Buck asked, but he didn't sound quite as agitated anymore.

"Fuck you! I don't have to tell you anything!" Dally said, throwing a punch in an unexplained blind rage. He was just so tired and frustrated he felt like he needed some sort of control. The blond-haired greaser may have been good in a fist fight, but his hit was sloppy. Buck caught his wrist, pushing his arm back to his side.

Nobody was talking anymore, and everyone turned to look at them. A furious look set on the man's face.

"What're you looking at?" He demanded, a sneer setting on his face, partly because of the staring, and partly because the effort it took to keep Dally's arm locked to his side.

Everyone reluctantly looked away, turning back to whatever they had been doing before, and Buck turned his attention back to Dallas. Maybe they weren't the closest of friends, and they did argue quite a bit, but they were still buddies.

"C'mere, man." He told Dally, leading him over to the bar, and with some effort got him to sit down. He poured him a glass of water from the barley used pitcher that always sat on the counter. Dally took a sip, it was lukewarm, but it made him realize how much he needed the drink.

"Where have you been, man?" Buck asked again, but it was different that time. It was a question instead of a demand, and his tone was a little friendlier, though it still held the sternest that it did before. He was about to retort again, until Buck showed him his room key, bribing him to talk. The blond greaser's scowl melted into a look a defeat. Dally took a sip of the water before answering.

"I got into a fight with some of the members of the gang a while ago." Buck cocked an eyebrow at this but motioned for him to continue. "And then I fell asleep in the lot, and I talked to my uncle again. Apparently, I have a sister who died in a fire." Dally explained quickly, tiredly rubbing his forehead.

"Uncle?" Buck asked casually, as he rubbing one of the glasses that Dally had been drinking out of dry with an old tattered dish towel. Dally nodded.

"Yeah, he was in here a couple of days ago." He told Buck. The rubbing seized.

"What're you talking about?" He asked, a brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't remember that at all. Dallas groaned at this.

"That's just what the others said." He murmured to himself, not meaning for Buck to hear.

"Others?" His friend asked, his voice dripping with suspicion. Dally frowned at this, did Buck think he was lying to him?

"Yes, others." Dally snapped in a tone that dared him to question it more. Buck put both his hand up in a sign of defeat.

"Easy, man. No need to get upset with me again. Just because I don't remember that doesn't mean that it didn't happen." He looked him straight and the eye, and Dally felt a chill run down his spine. Buck tossed him the key, and before he could say anything else Dallas had already bolted up the stairs.

…

Dally cursed as he struggled to push open the heavy door to the bedroom. The hinges were old and rusty, matter of fact everything at Buck's was. The door creaked loudly as it was finally pushed open, and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

His room was exactly the same as when he last stayed in it. The same unmade bed and the same cracked window pane. The same layer of dust that had coated everything for as long as he could remember. But something in the room was very off.

The album, the photo album from his uncle, had seemed to vanish into thin air. He swore the last time he saw it was when he had carelessly thrown it on the bed, but now it seemed to have disappeared. He frowned, had it fallen off the bed?

He fell into a crouch, peering under the bed, but next to a balled up shirt there was nothing there. He began to feel agitated again, and without thinking about it, moved towards the door.

He was back downstairs as quickly as a rabbit, and his speed startled some of the people who were gathered near the stairs.

"Which one of you motherfuckers took it?" He demanded, eyes scanning the few people that had stayed passed late hours. Dallas ground his teeth together, and if looks could kill, everyone would be six feet under. But Dally didn't care, he just continued to remind himself that no one stole from him and got away with it.

"What are you talking about?" Buck was the first to speak up, and his voice was filled with all the agitation that it had held when Dally first entered the bar.

"The fucking book." He shouted, slamming a hand down on the bar, as nervous eyes belonging to stranger peered at each other.

"C'mon man, just sit down, you're exhausted," Buck argued, trying to force another plastic cup of cloudy water into his hand. Dallas threw the cup over his shoulder a woman screeched as the water was thrown on her. Dally's scowl deepened and he was about to tell him that Buck that wasn't he wasn't going to drink anything until he found that book.

But he quickly changed his mind, and grabbed one of the many cans of beer that was on the counter, and brought it to his lips. Whoever had purchased said beer cried out in protest, but another glare from Dallas silence him.

"What're you doing, dumbass?" Buck demanded, but Dallas didn't even look at him.

"By The time I leave this bar I'm not going to care about the hell I have been put through."

 **Oh, boy. I just read it too, and it's angst's and suspenseful as hell. Kinda like it though. I hope you enjoyed it as well.**


	13. Chapter 13

***insert generic excuse for not updating in weeks here***

 **Hey, it's me. I've decided to finish the chapter that I had started days ago. Just so ya know, I haven't abandoned this story, just be patient.**

 **Not much to say but enjoy.**

Lightning cracked through the sky, the booming of thunder following. The window, which had been broken years ago leaving it propped open, was frosted over, announcing the beginning of winter. Not that he minded, he actually quite enjoyed winter.

He had a lot on his mind. His uncle, his sister, whom he had never got the chance to meet, Johnny and the gang. He wondered if any of them were looking at the sky that night. He smirked to himself, that seemed like something Ponyboy would be doing.

He worried about that kid sometimes, not like he worried about Johnny. With Johnny, he worried that one day he would wake up and he would be gone, that he would never get away from his old man, and never be happy.

But with Pony, he was worried the kid would never toughen up. That he would always be fascinated with sunsets and books and one day he was going to get hurt, and he was going to curl up and never come out. He feared that all the kid had been through would just come rushing back to him, and he wouldn't be able to take it.

Another boom of thunder shook the small building, pulling him from his thoughts. Dallas blinked once at the loud noise but made no other sign of discomfort at the sound.

"Good old Oklahoma." Dally murmured to himself. It rained a lot more in Oklahoma than it did in New York City, and the thunderstorms were quite a bit more intense. The lightning was brighter and the thunder was louder, and he wasn't sure if he liked it, but it was just something he had to put up with.

He was incredibly drunk, he and Buck had drunk at least five or six beers, and polished off a couple of bottles of whiskey. And damn it felt good, and yet it didn't. Dallas had always been in control of his emotions, a very down to earth person, but lately, he hadn't been himself. Being out of control, and loosing even more of himself to alcohol made him feel odd.

And of course, the chaos of the thunderstorm outside wasn't helping his

current state.

The sun had set hours ago, and he wasn't sure what time it was, except that it was past midnight. There wasn't a single star outside, the dark sky enveloped the earth like a blanket. The rain from the thunderstorm pounded in a steady, soothing rhythm, making the old windowsill raddle slightly.

He glanced at the clock, it was old and poorly made, built out of some sort of fragile wood, with a long crack on the face that ran right down the middle through the six and the twelve. Buck won it in a bet from some drunk middle class that didn't have any money on him. A clock, what a strange thing to bet on.

It was at least an hour and a few minutes ahead but it at least gave him some sense of time. Right then the clock read three in the morning, which meant it was somewhere around two.

He sighed deeply, feeling gloomy. Being drunk was no fun when the buzz had passed. Now he was hazy and dizzy and lost all of his energy. He always found it odd that one minute he could be bouncing off the walls, and on the floor not able to stand up the next.

He considered going back downstairs and polishing off another can of beer to try and get the buzz back. Or maybe he could go see if there was a drag race downtown. He sighed, figured he should probably go to bed, though he wasn't particularly tired it's not like there was anything better to do.

He crawled into bed, curling up into a ball. There wasn't any heating at Buck's, nor was there air conditioning. It got blistering hot in the summer and colder than ice in the winter. He had to rely on his own body heat to get him through the night.

His eyes slipped closed, as his mind cleared. He listened to the steady rain outside and the slight shaking on the window. They were familiar, comforting sounds and…

CRASH!

Dallas bolted straight up in bed at the loud sound. It was the unmistakable sound of a glass breaking, there was no doubt about it. But the only room at Buck's with glasses was downstairs in the bar, and everyone had left hours ago, except for Buck himself who had gone to bed hours ago.

He assumed Buck had gotten up and hadn't bothered to turn on the lights, in the dark of the night he must have had knocked one of the glasses over, shattering it. Yes, that must be it, it was just Buck.

But what if it wasn't, what if someone had broken in? Dally thought anxiously to himself. He shook off the slight nervousness, he was Dallas Winston, goddamnit, so what if someone was in the bar, it didn't matter. People stayed behind at Buck's all the time, especially in the winter.

But if they were breaking stuff, then Buck would be pissed, and Dallas didn't want to have to deal with that in the morning. He shook his head stubbornly, what was with this urge to go downstairs, two weeks ago he wouldn't even have noticed the crash, let alone get the urge to go investigate.

He sighed kicking the covers off, wondering how long it had since the little voices in his head had begun controlling him.

The lights were on, not just the small strand that was nailed above the bar that Buck usually kept on during most of the night. The entire bottom floor had all the lights on, like when the bar was open, but without all the people. Dallas rose a brow at this, Buck never turned all the lights on at night. He complained about how high it made the electricity bill.

Sometimes people stayed late and would argue with Buck to keep the lights on so they could finish their game of cards, but they never got him to budge. Buck was as stubborn as a mule, so the folks who stayed the night had to make do with the streetlight that was right outside the small window, which gave them just enough light to see their cards. The bottom line was, the lights downstairs were always off at night, no exceptions.

So why were they on now?

With his back pressed against the wall, he sneaked downstairs, wincing silently as one of the floorboards creaked beneath his weight. Goddamnit, if there was anyone who had snuck in, they knew he was there.

Everyone had left that night, no one had stayed behind that night, Buck had made sure of it. Or so they had thought. Because two people with extremely familiar faces sat at one of the tables, their eyes locked on him, and Dallas' jaw nearly dropped to the ground.

 **Sorry, for the cliffhanger, I just couldn't help myself. Who do you think Dallas saw, I'll give you a hint, it might not be who you think it is. Keep in mind there are two people, I'd love to hear your guesses.**

 **Anyways, I hope you enjoyed and please review.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hey, guys how's it going? I hope you're doing well.**

 **So I was thinking about writing a one-shot about the gang being stuck together during a blizzard, and also some good things happening to him because I've been a real bitch to him in this story. Is that something you guys would be interested in?**

 **Anyways, please enjoy**

"Sylvia!?" He exclaimed loudly, feeling fury bubble up in him once again. "How did you get in here?" He demanded.

"Thanks for noticing me." An extremely familiar voice called, and Dally rose a brow.

"Two-Bit?" He demanded, but in a softer tone than he had used with Sylvia.

"The one and only." The greaser responded, taking a long sip of the beer can that was sitting in front of him. He noticed the cold, blunt tone, but decided not to mention it. In all honesty Two-Bit had every right to be angry with him, we had gotten into a fight with Johnny, and on top of that hadn't shown his face to anyone in the gang in a couple of months.

Sylvia rolled her eyes at this comment, but a playful smirk was on her face. That's what Dally liked about her, no matter how tense or anxiety-inducing the situation was she could get through it with that evil smirk of hers, including dealing with him.

"Where've you been, man?" Two-Bit asked like it was nothing. Dally's eyes narrowed at this in a suspicious sort of way. Sure Two-Bit wasn't the most dramatic of people, but it was unnerving for him to seem so careless.

Sylvia jumped up suddenly, startling him a bit. She moved in an unpredictable sort of way, like how a snake would slither and suddenly dart after it's prey, disturbing everything around her.

"Come for a walk with me." She commanded, walking quickly to the door. Dallas folded his arms across his chest stubbornly, rooted to where he was.

"No." He called, and she halted, slowly turning to look at him.

"Dallas." She hissed in a dangerous way, but there was something else in her voice. The way she said his name was laced with disappointment, and her eyes, usually mischievous and bright were clouded over with another emotion, one that he couldn't place.

"No." He repeated, daring her to say anything else. "I'm not going anywhere with you, and there's a thunderstorm outside, we're really going to go for a walk in that?" Dallas demanded, and Sylvia's eyes narrowed. He could feel an argument forming, and he wondered if he was sober enough to dodge if she started throwing stuff.

Sylvia's eyes dulled for a moment, before lighting up again, an idea creating a spark.

"Are you too much of a little bitch to handle some thunder?" She asked casually, pretending to observe one of her fingernails. And even though he knew the comment was to get him angry enough to go with her he still reacted to it, doing exactly what she wanted him to do.

His cheeks tinted scarlet at the question, a physical sign that he cared, and Sylvia smirked in a silent victory, holding the door open as Dally stormed past her out said door. The blond greaser girl looked at Two-Bit who watched his friend go with a worried look on his face, something that Sylvia sighed at. She mouthed to him that they would be back soon, before slamming the door behind her as they left.

"Man, you are wasted," Sylvia commented, as he stumbled down the uneven sidewalk. He growled at this but made no further comment concentrating on keeping his balance.

Sylvia who had been walking in front of him stopped suddenly, turning to look at him. The two of them stood in the middle of the sidewalk, the rain pouring down on them in sheets. Sylvia's hair, which was usually in bouncy ringlets hung limply in a tangled mess, clinging to her face and neck. Her makeup was smeared, and her eyes wild.

"So what's the deal for dragging me out here?" Dally demanded, and he could feel his own blond locks being matted down, as he was drenched within seconds. His clothes hung damply, and he shivered suddenly feeling very small compared to the storm.

"To get you out that bar and thinking straight for once!" Sylvia snapped, her voice laced with venom. Then she sighed, a gentle and sympathetic sound that replaced her angry tone, like water putting out a fire.

"Listen, you know that little group you hang around with, Mathews and them?" Sylvia asked, not waiting for him to answer. "You gotta go back to them, Dal." She said softly.

There was a long pause, and for a moment the pounding of the rain and the rumble of the thunder stopped, as the world stood at a standstill.

"Why should I?" Dally finally said, careful to keep his voice cold and emotionless.

"Because it's slowly tearing them apart." She argued. "You know that little kid, the one who follows you around? He begged me to tell him where you were." Dally's eyes widened at this.

"Johnny?" He demanded, and suddenly the world felt hazy and he wondered if he would pass out. Johnny always seemed terrified of Sylvia, the only reason he seemed to tolerate her was because of her connection with him. Oh man, if Johnny talked to her he must have been really upset, Dally thought to himself, the guilt returning to him.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the feelings once again. He fought to make them go away, but the sadness and anger and guilt continued to swirl inside him like a tornado.

"Yeah, who do you think sent me here?" Sylvia continued, rolling her eyes. "He said he thought I was the only one who could knock some sense into you." Then her eyes locked on his.

She observed his features for a moment and he wondered if the emotions showed on there as well. At first, he thought she was going to say something about it, but seemed to stop herself. Instead, she leaned forward until the side of her face was against his, and she felt her cold lips right near his ear.

And even though it was cold and rough he leaned into the touch. It was comforting, even if he knew she was just doing it because she felt bad for him. She pulled back, chewing on her lip for a moment before turning.

"C'mon, let's go back to Buck's." She said, using the commanding angry voice once again. Dallas stood for a moment listening to the rain pound against his skull, before hastily following her.

 **Oh boy, Johnnycake sent Sylvia to bring Dal back, I wonder what he'll do.**

 **I hope you enjoyed and please review**


	15. Chapter 15

Hi there! How have you guys been? I hope you're doing well.

Anyways on with the story (things are really starting to get dark, maybe I need to tone it down)

Enjoy!

As the couple returned to the bar Dally noticed that the lights had been dimmed. Not completely off, but enough so it gave off a bit of an orange glow. Next, to the lights, everything else was the same. To his surprise, Two-Bit was still there, drinking a beer that he obviously wasn't going to pay for. Dally had considered telling the older greaser that Buck was his buddy and that he shouldn't be stealing from him but found that he didn't have the energy to argue.

Sylvia and Two-Bit shared a long hard look, and they began to murmur things to each other. Dally strained his ears to listen, and only caught bits and pieces of the conversation. Johnny, home, family. He rose a brow and coughed to try and get their attention, they ignored him.

"What is this an intervention?" He demanded. Two-Bit jammed his fists into his pockets and laughed once without any humor.

"Yeah, I guess you could call it that." He said bluntly. Sylvia sat down at one of the empty tables, the one near the window, and motioned for Dallas to go over to Two-Bit. As soon as the blond greaser sat down Two-Bit looked him directly in the eye.

"Everyone thinks you've gone insane." The older man told him. This didn't come as a surprise to Dallas, but he forced an offended look on his face, one that was nasty enough to make anyone shut their mouth. Two-Bit took one look at his face and took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact.

"Dal, I know you're having a hard time but…" The greaser began. Dallas raised a brow at him.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" Dally asked his friend. The question obviously took Two-Bit by surprise, but something in his eye told Dally the answer. The redhead put a hand on his shoulder, but Dallas nudged it off.

"No." Two-Bit lied smoothly, but Dallas saw through it like glass.

"Bullshit!" He yelled, jumping up, ready to storm out at that very second. Sylvia had decided to make a reappearance.

"Sit down." She said in an eerily way. The tone gave him a bit of an icy shock, but he did his best to ignore it. One thing that he couldn't ignore was the pounding of his head and his wobbly legs. Damn, he had forgotten that he was hyped up on booze.

Sylvia shoved him lightly, and the tiny push was enough to send him falling back into his chair. Two-Bit was standing next to her now, and they stood with their arms crossed looking down at him. Dallas cringed, he felt like a child being lectured by their parents.

"We're just asking you to act a bit more…" Two-Bit began struggling to find the right word.

"Normal." Sylvia finished. Dallas bared his teeth at her in a manner that one might compare to a stray dog. She rolled her eyes at him, his threats didn't bother her much anymore, but even she knew to be careful when he got pissed off.

"We're just asking you to be a little less reckless." She corrected herself. "Like drink less." She said nodding in the direction of the beer cans. "We don't need people thinking you're insane and a drunk." Then her face changed a bit, her eyes became less harsh and she chewed on her lip in a way that could have made her seem timid.

"And you, you know, try and remember your friends," Sylvia said, playing with the hem of her skirt. Dally raised a brow at her, but she pretended not to notice. And with that she transformed back into her sassy fearless self and turned, walking in the direction of the door.

"I'll see you around, baby." She said with a flutter of her fingers. He scrunched his nose at the pet name but didn't say anything about it. He watched her go from the window, she looked so calm in the rain, he wondered if she actually enjoyed walking in the storm.

"She's a bitch. I don't understand why you always get back together with her." Two-Bit said, wearing the same face as Dallas. The blond greaser shrugged.

"She knows how to have a good time." He said, raising an eyebrow in a suggestive manner. The two young men chuckled at this. Then Two-Bit's face went serious again.

"Yeah, about that…" He said. "Are you sure she's knocked up? It's been a while, when do broads start to show that they're pregnant?" Two-Bit asked. Dallas scowled, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't know. Do I look like a damn broad to you?" They chuckled once again, but this time Dally's laugh was forced. This worried him, when did women start to show? If she hadn't started to show by now maybe she wasn't pregnant he thought to himself optimistically.

…But what if she had been pregnant, she seemed fairly certain she was when she had told him. Perhaps she had lost the baby. He swallowed hard as the dark thought passed his mind. Even if he didn't like kids it was hard to think of her losing one, just like he had lost Elizabeth-

No. A voice in his head cut off the thought. No, he wasn't going to think about that, he was going to ignore the thought, that would make him feel better…

…he was getting better, right?

"If you're just with her for a good time I would be careful," Two-Bit warned, apparently not noticing Dally's conversation with himself. "She seems to be getting attached." He said. Dally found, to his surprise, that with everything that had gone wrong some broad clinging to him didn't seem like the worst thing in the world.

"Why do you say that?" He asked anyway.

"It didn't take Johnnycake long to convince her to come talk to you, he only and twice, or maybe three times," Two-Bit informed him. "Speaking of Johnnycake, you'll try and come to the Curtis' tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, sure," Dallas said bluntly. "I'll try." Two-Bit have him an odd sort of look like he was trying to read his mind, Dally looked away just in case he could.

The redhead frowned at his refusal to look at him but nonetheless reached over to rub his shoulder, perhaps to give him some sort of comfort, but the blond hood didn't turn to face him and even shrugged friend gave him one last look before leaving.

Dally sighed lowly, putting his hot forehead on the cool tile of the bar.

Damn. He thought to himself. When did I become this untrusting?

Please review, next chapter should be up soon-Macky


	16. Chapter 16

Uhhhh. Here's a new chapter? What do you even say when you haven't provided your wonderful readers a chapter for months?

Well, enjoy.

The old creaky bed at Buck's wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but at that very moment there was nowhere else he would rather be. His eyes slid closed, and his breathing slowed, he swore he could sleep forever. Damn it if Buck's customers could just-

A soft tapping noise on his window caused him to sit straight up.

"Oh, good lord!" He murmured to himself angrily. What did a guy have to do to get some sleep around here?

With some effort he forced the rusted window open, swearing as his finger was sliced on the cracked glass, but he was tired he didn't feel it. Damn, he just wanted to go to sleep. His muscles ached, he had to hold the window open himself or it would slide shut. He growled, whoever woke him up wasn't going to get away easily.

He peered outside finding that there was no one there. Huh. He tried to tell himself that it was just his imagination or maybe a bird or a squirrel. But despite this he stayed rooted to the spot, his eyes locked on the ground.

"…Two-Bit?" He called gently. He almost rolled his eyes at himself, maybe he was losing it.

"Sylvia?" He said, this time his voice a bit louder. When he got no response, he shrugged preparing to close the window.

"Those are funny names." A voice called out startling him. He jumped back, the window sliding closed with a bang. It took him a moment to compose himself, before opening the window once again.

"W-what? W-what are y-you doing-" He stuttered before being shushed. A familiar man stepped out from the shadows. His uncle stood, smirking up at him. Dally felt his face grow red.

"You!? What are you doing?" He finally finished the sentence he had been previously saying. "It's the middle of the night! Heck, it's almost morning!" He scolded the older man. His uncle never stopped smirking, shaking his head slowly.

"If you want to know more about our past, meet me in the lot." He said simply, turning to leave.

"I can't I'm going to the Curtis'" He said, preparing to shut the window. What he wasn't prepared for was the older man stopping dead in his tracks.

"Is that so?" He asked, in his usual cold tone. But there was something else to it, a menacing, perhaps dangerous undertone? He shook his head, he really was imagining things. "Are you sure that's wise?" His uncle asked, not bothering to turn and look at him.

"Yeah, they're my friends," Dallas said, but his video lacked confidence. Both of them could hear that.

"But they took so damn long to come and find you. What has it been, one month, maybe two?" The older man let out a humorless laugh. Dallas simply stared, not knowing what to say. He couldn't even bring himself to scowl at the older man.

"However you know best." The older man had finally turned to face him. And even in the pitch black darkness he could still see his dark eyes shiny and locked directly on him. "Don't you?"

It was the same house. With the same people inside. At least he hoped.

He walked up the porch steps, torn between what to do. One part of him told him to walk in and casually talk to everyone as if nothing had happened. Another part of him said to apologize, save his friendships, and make sure to never make the same mistake again.

And a third voice, a little one in the back of his head. Saying to run away and never come back. He tried to ignore it and went to knock on the door. He froze, his fist still up in the air. He couldn't.

He just couldn't.

The was empty except for the two of them. He stepped forward eyes down and head bowed. The older man smiled down at him, the most expression that had ever been on his face.

"Good." He said, his eyes lighting up excitedly. "Very good."

Sorry, it's short. Longer chapters to come.

Please review- Macky


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